


His Knockout Betty

by RG1738



Series: Accidentally [1]
Category: Clone High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Starts during prom, everyone is 18+ in this bc there will be a spicy chapter and i don’t play like that, idk havent thought that far, joan deserves to be happy, literally cant stop thinking about them, please don’t murk me this is my first fic, some headcanons, we do not stan abe in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RG1738/pseuds/RG1738
Summary: Joan and JFK, who could have seen it coming? JFK didn’t, but he surely was not mad about it. A take on how the pair managed to link up during prom, minus getting caught and frozen in the meat locker (so some canon divergence), mostly from the perspective of JFK. When push comes to shove Joan has always been there for Abe regardless of how it impacts her. Will this be yet another example, or is Joan finally ready to move on after seeing what love could look like?
Relationships: Cleopatra/Abraham Lincoln (Clone High), Joan of Arc/Abraham Lincoln (Clone High), Joan of Arc/JFK (Clone High)
Series: Accidentally [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984633
Comments: 99
Kudos: 451
Collections: Prom Night AU





	1. Teenage Angst in the Midst of The Greatest Night of Their Lives: A Rope of Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this is my first fic. Takes place during the prom from JFK’s perspective, if I write multiple chapters I might make the year 2020, but for now that doesn’t really affect the story too much. Side note, I tried my best to write the characters closest to how they are in the show, but I cant promise I did a great job with that, so forgive me pls if it’s a little OOC, I needed it for the a n g s t. anyways, enjoy!

“You mean... You like me? When I’m just, me?” Joan looked at him with surprise, a delightful note of optimism in her voice.  
  
“Ring-a-ding-ding.” He smiled in return, glad to see her smiling again.

He knew it was out of character to be vulnerable with someone, especially when it came to talking about feelings. But after all this time something finally clicked within him. All he knew in this very moment was that his knockout Betty was right in front of him, and whether or not there was an opportunity to seize, she needed somebody to be there for her. Not that she’d ever say that, let alone hope it would be _him_ of all people.   
  
And that was okay with him.  
  
“That chowderhead Lincoln just can’t see it without some bozo makeover. I tell ya, that guy’s head is so full of chowder, he should have a bread bowl for a beard!” He gave a lighthearted chuckle, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, thinking his quip would lighten the mood. Instead he was met with a deadpan raised-brow. The Kennedy copy let out an awkward chuckle, internally screaming and not knowing if it was the joke or the gesture that tipped her off.

JFK didn’t _mean_ to get feelings for the girl. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t known the extent of what he felt for her until tonight. Here she was; sitting on the stairs by her lonesome, puffy eyes and damp silky-smooth skin glistening in the moonlight. No longer in the tantalizing costume—back to her normal, beautiful self.   
  
Which is why it sucked ass when a heavy silence fell between the two, far more ambiguous than he would have liked. Realizing that his ‘confession’ (if one could even call it that) was new territory for each of them, he cleared his throat and shifted where he sat. The Kennedy clone had intended on removing his arm and changing the subject, maybe getting her with the ol offering-to-drive-ya-home spiel with a suggestive one liner here or there, but he never got the chance.

See, when JFK began shifting Joan leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and placing a delicate hand on his.

“Thanks, Kennedy.” She smiled, her voice so light and honeyed it caused him to shiver and melt all at once.

Dude was losing his mind. The act alone made his breath hitch in surprise. He had never been in this situation before. Usually the girls he wanted would throw themselves at him, sure, but not like this. Not so tenderly, and genuinely—and clothed. This whole concept of having feelings deeper than lust (although those feelings were definitely not absent) was still new. He’d acknowledged the ones he developed for Cleo, except he never really got any advice after Scudsworth pulled the lever on him.

So, the poor kid couldn’t help himself from looking down at her with adoration. She looked so small and fragile. She always made herself out to be so strong, he felt like maybe he was witnessing something he wasn’t supposed to see.

The pressure was on now.

He knew he needed to say something quick. Mentally torn between something like “Sure thing, Joan,” and “Any chance you wanna go for some food, Joan?” but what came out was—

“Anything for you, Joansey.”

He froze. That’s not what he was supposed to say.

Instinctively he flinched, but to his (pleasant) surprise, no kick or punch ever made it his way. At first he wasn’t even sure that he’d heard it right. It was... what? A soft giggle? Her REAL giggle?? He knew he could be funny for certain people at times, but this was new; he would annoy the shit out of her just to get her attention most days. And here she was actually finding humor in something he said?

That can’t be, he thought... can it?

“Alright, cool it, Casanova,” Joan said through a smirk, sitting up so that her head was no longer on the boy’s shoulder (much to his dismay) and scooting to face him. (Meanwhile, the cloned Casanova who was approaching from the doorway JFK had walked out from in the background, whom neither of which noticed, stood equipped with a bouquet. Disappointed by Joan’s remark, he hung his head sadly and walked away.)

The fact that she wasn’t visibly angry or upset with him and had yet to use brute force against him was a huge relief to JFK. Her delightfully cute little giggle combined with her playful smirk was so odd and yet it drove him mad. He finally managed to relax out of his stiffness, smiling some at himself and thanking his lucky stars his word vomit didn’t sabotage the rest of the evening.   
  
“Ya know, I’m er, uh, not exactly used to this.” He chuckled in sincerity, met once again with a raised brow, this time the cool smirk remaining attached. He was scared he’d said something to offend her and was mentally preparing for a scolding.   
  
“Really? * _THE*_ JFK, out of his element?” Joan teased. “I’m honored, honestly. The one and only, official Play-Boy JFK of Clone High.” She paused for dramatic effect, but Kennedy could have sworn she was looking for something out of him. “Flustered... Over me? I must be dreaming!” She quipped sarcastically with a playful eye-roll, causing the young man to relax a bit and take on a shit-eating grin. That is, until he noticed a slight flush of pink to her cheeks after she spoke.   
  
Now he was confident.   
  
“Hey now, doll face, it’s not er, uh my fault ya—“ He was about to tease in return, his quip cut short by her shiver under his arm. He didn’t think it was that cold out, however living up to his lady-killer reputation he didn’t miss a beat. Quickly, quietly and with some assemblance of grace, he lowered the arm that was on her shoulder to be draped around her bicep while he freed his other arm from its sleeve. A flash of confusion and a hint of what looked like maybe—just maybe—disappointment fell over her face as he removed his arm.   
  
He was in autopilot now.   
  
“Here,” he offered, voice deep and warm, using his now free arm to slip the arm of her’s closest to him into the sleeve. He gently held her cold, dainty hand in his own, not realizing how small hers actually were, or how perfectly they fit together. He guided it into the sleeve in a smooth motion, his other arm still in the second sleeve hanging loosely around her right arm. He looped his free arm around the front of her, grabbing the cuff and tugging it forward gently while pulling his arm back and out of the sleeve.   
  
JFK had inadvertently trapped her within his arms and jacket, yet surprisingly made no effort to resist. She was staring at him the entire time, seemingly taken aback by this side of JFK. He on the other hand was too focused on maneuvering in a seemingly effortless manner to take any notice. His brows furrowed together slightly, while his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth. Pulling his arm gently out of the sleeve, it brushed against the length of her back, causing her to shiver, this time not from the cold.   
  
Both arms were now free, and he was determined to get her other arm in the sleeve. He was so focused, he rested his chin on her shoulder when reaching to guide her second hand into the last sleeve. He only realized how close their faces actually were when he felt her breathe a jagged breath, after unconsciously holding it for so long. He looked up at her big, soft eyes, wide and glimmering. He couldn’t help but stare, still holding her hand, one arm around her front and one arm on her back.   
  
He looked into her eyes, gaze drifting slightly southbound from her dark orbs to her stained lips.   
  
Did they always look this enticing? God, how he wanted to close that gap.   
  
And for a second, he could have sworn she started to.   
  
In a panicked haze, JFK dropped her hand and scooted backwards, distancing himself from her.   
  
He cursed himself in his head for being such a moron.   
  
“I, uh, got a little carried away, ahaha!” He griped nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, face flushed a deep red, terrified of making further eye contact, looking at anything _but_ her. “You’re uh, the smartest girl I know, you uh don’t need any help with any silly ol’ jacket!” The exclamation came nervously, as he had no fucking idea how or why he just did any of that, his heart beating so hard he thought it would break through his chest.   
  
“...the smartest girl you know, huh?” Joan repeated quietly, voice cracking slightly. It caught Kennedy’s attention quick, his head turning so fast he might’ve thought he had whiplash had he any time to think.   
  
She was crying now.   
  
Fuck, man, marathons were a breeze compared to this.   
  
“Is that what it is? First Abe, and now you?” She thought out loud, having pulled her other arm through the sleeve now and hugging herself, back turned toward the boy after the quick split. “Or is it just me...Am I really that undesirable...?” She let out in between breaths, shoulders shaking her small frame.   
  
If heartbroken were a person right then and there, it’d be named JFK.   
  
He was so utterly distraught in that moment. Angry at Lincoln for not seeing what he had in front of him this whole time. Angry at himself for being no better than Abe. Upset that the amazing gal in front of him would ever think she’s not wanted. Normally when he’d made advances towards Joan before, she’d rejected him without fail.   
  
She was always so firm in it; one of the things that he respected and found attractive about her. It wasn’t that he was some creepy guy who thought she was ‘playing hard to get,’ it was truly the facet of getting to know Joan for who she was. Everything about her, it wasn’t just given. You had to work for it. She had to be comfortable enough with you to give it up. And since he always seemed to be surrounded by ‘yes men’ it was a nice change of pace. Especially since she was honest, too. JFK really liked that about her.   
  
So, why was it this one time, when he was controlling himself for her, and she wasn’t pretending to be some giggly vapid slut, that she was upset?   
  
They sat separated still, the silence deafening, the crickets chirping only amplifying the stress. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was losing it.   
  
“Hey, it’s okay, you know. You shouldn’t have to waste your night out here with me on a stoop. It’s the greatest night of our lives, right? Go back in there, live it up.” Joan offered, wiping her eyes quickly and trying to gain her composure. “Maybe you can get one of your other dates back.” It wasn’t intended to come across negatively, hell, she even tried to add a smile in there somewhere, but she couldn’t hide her natural demeanor, some slight venom shining through.   
  
JFK winced with each word. He didn’t want her to feel like this, let alone be part of the reason. He wanted her to have fun, at the very least keep her company and her mind off of that stupid penny boy screwing Cleopatra. He kept running his finger through his perfectly kept hair as if it would magically make him know what to do.   
  
No time to waste, he decided. He got up, bracing himself and putting on his best Kennedy Charm.   
  
“You er, uh... Look like you could use a pick-me-up.” He said, standing over the red-head.   
  
“What—?” She tried to get out, before the muscular boy towering over her wrapped his arms around her tight, lifting her from the step bridal-style with ease, walking back towards the building.   
  
“Pick-me-up as in, uh, it is you who is getting er, uh, picked up! Ahaha! Get it?” He beamed, proud of his clever gag, and even more proud of himself when he caught a glimpse of her smile.   
  
She started banging her small fists against his chest (which he pretended didn’t physically hurt).   
  
“Put me down, Kennedy!” She demanded, trying to be intimidating, which Kennedy found to be adorable.   
  
He lightly kicked open the door to an empty room, before striding towards the only piece of furniture in the room.  
  
“Whatever you say, doll.” He smirked before playfully tossing her onto the pink bed, which made her squeal a bit, before they both erupted in laughter.   
  
As she settled herself to get more comfortable in the new environment, JFK was trying to maintain a cool exterior, sitting on the edge opposite to where she sat out of respect for her space. He wanted to be closer, but didn’t dwell on it for too long.   
  
“Hey, er, uh, Joan...” Kennedy started, unsure of himself or where this was going, knowing he had to say something to at least fill the air after the laughter died down. “I er, uh, didn’t mean to uh, upset ya back there. I, uh...” he looked up at her, as she sat up with her legs criss crossed, lips slightly pursed in thought, taking in what he was saying, head even tilting a bit.   
  
She was so cute.   
  
“Gah! Why is this so hard?!”   
  
His outburst made her look at him with concern, especially since he said something was hard, and did not immediately burst into laughter and say ‘that’s what she said.’   
  
“JFK, are you—?”  
“Joan, you’re drivin’ me crazy!” He finally exploded, hands grasping her shoulders. “That lanky Lincoln punk took Cleo first, and now you—!”   
  
“Technically Cleo sort of threw herself at him, and I liked him first, but who’s counting.” Joan interjected comedically, causing JFK to stop and think, putting his hands together in thought with a “Hm.”   
  
“Okay, fair.” He conceded, hands pointing towards her regardless. “I tried to er, uh, be better than that walking side burn, and to uh, learn things about you. Like your space and stuff.” Kennedy let out defeatedly. “I er, uh, wasn’t sure if I had a real chance against him for ya. ‘Else I woulda kissed ya like, 4 times by now.” He stated casually, then having to recall and count on his fingers just to be sure. “Yeah. 4 times, minimum.” He emphasized, earning a snort from Joan, who until then had been looking at him in utter disbelief.   
  
“You know what Kennedy? I think I misjudged you.” Joan started, leaning forward towards the boy in front of her. Next thing he knew, she was grabbing _his_ hands now to guide. She had pulled him close to her, hugging him from the side. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” She chided, making JFK’s face flush slightly. Next thing he knew he was wrapping his arms around her.   
  
“I really do like ya, Joan.” He breathed, unsure how she would receive his declaration.   
  
For as dumb as JFK could be, he knew it was very possible the embrace was just friendly, and he doubted—even _with_ his certified good looks and charm—Joan could be over Lincoln so fast. Maybe she never would.   
  
So, for as long as he had her, he would cherish it.   
  
And then, he felt a soft, delicate hand reach his cheek.   
  
“Hey, Kennedy?” She asked, voice so soft and innocent it caught the jock off guard. He rose a brow in response, trying not to stare at her endearing expression, finding it hard to keep his eyes from traveling down to her lips again.   
  
“Would this be time number 5?” She posed, cheeks lightly dusted pink, averting her eyes from his gaze.   
  
The boy cocked a brow and tilted his head, similarly to a confused puppy. After a few moments, a lightbulb flicked on in his head, with which he immediately let out an ecstatic “Oh!” Grinning, he wordlessly placed a hand under her chin, thumb resting ever so carefully beneath her bottom lip. This time around, he moved slowly to close the gap, intentionally taking forever to do so. His lips gently brushed the corner of hers for only a second, before pulling back and looking at her with his famous shit-eating grin. He was cockily relishing in the fact she asked him to kiss her.   
  
No way he was going to miss this opportunity to be a tease.   
  
“Man, it’s er, uh, not everyday _the_ Joan of Arc is practically _beggin_ ya for a smooch,” He quipped sarcastically, still mere inches from her lips, his imbalanced grin grew wider by the second.   
  
“Oh for crying out loud, Kennedy!” She whined with a half-annoyed laugh, anticipation getting the best of her. She grabbed him by the collar, pulling him entirely over her, lips crashing feverishly. Both of them smiling into their kiss and giggling over the nature of it.

...

Maybe she’d never be over Lincoln, but JFK took great pride in knowing between the two of them, he was the first to kiss her impossibly soft lips.

And he was adamant on making sure neither he nor Joan would ever forget it.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’d you think? Comments are much appreciated :) might mess around and post the second chapter that’s already in the works lol


	2. Clumsy Joan. Very Clumsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don’t do it in the meat locker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW!!: mention of possible ED, it doesn’t go super in depth but I realized it was important to mention beforehand. NSFW for the first couple paragraphs, it’s not super spicy, it’s just there. also IMPORTANT: each time there is the isolated “...” between paragraphs, the pov has changed (so it starts with JFK, then Joan, then ends with JFK again)

Maybe she’d never be over Lincoln, but JFK took great pride in knowing between the two of them, he was the first to kiss her impossibly soft lips. 

And he was adamant on making sure neither he nor Joan would ever forget it. 

“Joansey,” He panted in between kisses. 

“Yes Jack?” Joan let out, sounding more like a breathy moan than a response, her eyes half lidded. He shuddered at the sound of his nickname rolling off her tongue in such a seductive way. It truly was a sight to behold. 

Things were getting hot and heavy between the two clones. Jackets were removed; shirts unbuttoned, and Kennedy was 1000% here for it. However, what he was not here for was giving this absolute knockout girl “the time” in a literal meat locker. It didn’t matter if you told him he’d never get this chance again, there was no way he was going to create such an unforgettable evening in a setting like this. 

Tonight, he had higher standards he felt Joan deserved he live up to. 

That, and he was starting to be able to hear Abe and Cleo fighting in the other room. He was willing to cut the mood short if it meant it wasn’t going to end being a burden on her. 

That bastard, JFK thought, making a mental note to kick the scrawny kid’s ass for ruining this extraordinary moment for him. The only plus side being that it seemed Joan was too focused on him and what they were doing to even register the bickering a few rooms over was tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb. 

That’s what he hoped at least.

“Not that I er, uh, do not want to uh, _warm_ you _up_ all night _long_ ,” He purred suggestively, planting a trail of kisses from her ear down to her neck, earning a breathy giggle in response. “But I got this gut feeling,” he continued apprehensively, not before burying his face in Joan’s neck. 

He really couldn’t believe what he was about to say. 

“I think we should get outta here, Betty.” The Kennedy groaned in defeat, though it was apparent the groan was against Joan’s fairly sensitive and subsequently ticklish skin, because she became a giggly mess in his arms. He wanted to mess with her and drag it out so very bad, at least to hear her cute little snort one more time. 

Lincoln would have the next 24 hours to live before his ass was grass. 

“Okay, okay! We can leave, just! Please, I can’t breathe!” Joan got out in between laughs. Of course Kennedy had to do it at least a little more, are you kidding? For all he knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

When JFK did finally stop tickling the poor girl, he paused to take in the sight in front of him. Her smile remaining while she caught her breath, her chest heaving up and down, all because of him. He couldn’t help but gaze at her dreamily. It was the little things, like her smile, that he knew he had to appreciate as they came. She didn’t do that for just anyone or anything. 

He grabbed her face tenderly to steal one last kiss, finding himself tempted to stay there on top of her to test the fates after she sensually bit his lower lip as he tried to pull away. He groaned once more as he pulled her with him so that they were sitting up on the bed. 

JFK leaned over Joan to grab his jacket from behind her, attempting to drape it back over her shoulders, before tending to his own unbuttoned shirt. He could feel her eyes on him as he did so. 

“Like it better unbuttoned, eh?” He chided smugly, earning himself a “Shut up, Kennedy,” from a certain blushing red-head. She crossed her arms and pretended to ignore him after that. 

Thus he took it upon himself to swiftly scoop her up in his arms for a good spinning hug in which he threatened to tickle her if she didn’t acknowledge him soon. She didn’t pretend to fight him this time around. 

Kennedy made a break for the door, kicking it open. Fingers interlaced with Joan’s and making sure no Bettys were harmed in the making of this fast getaway. The exit was so clearly in view, nobody and nothing blocking their way. We might actually do this, he thought, still running towards the door, Joan tailing close behind. 

That was, until he heard the familiar whine of—

“Abe! Abe!” His ex-girlfriend cried frantically, evidently searching for Lincoln.

JFK stopped in his tracks. He looked at the distressed red-headed beauty on his arm, taking a gulp before speaking.

Shit. He tried to out-run it and failed. Maybe tonight was a fluke after all.

“Joan?” He knit his brows together in concern. She didn’t even look up at him when he said her name, eyes straining to focus on her roommate.

He felt her grip on his hand loosen gradually. He decided he wouldn’t be a sore loser this time around.

“If you er, uh, need to go do... _that_...” He sighed, putting his hands over his face and pulling down and slapping his cheeks a couple times to dissuade any further stinging that may arise in his chest or his eyes. “I won’t stop you.”

  
... 

This did snap her focus back to him, her face scrunched into a multitude of emotions, none of which she could quite place. And based on the look on his face, she wasn’t quite sure he could, either. She opened her mouth and stuttered something completely incomprehensible. Her brain was doing the same, and she started to reach her hand out towards Cleo, mouth still sputtering and agape.

Her eyes darted quickly back and forth between the two; Cleo or Kennedy. Cleo, or Kennedy? She was trying to decide fast, all of her reasons feeling like the wrong ones, causing her to repeatedly take in sharp breaths of air. None of it ever feeling like enough, being too much all at the same time. It hurt. 

Joan caught a glimpse of Kennedy’s wrecked expression, not expecting to see him look so devastated. She clutched at her chest, trying to catch her breath and calm her nerves to no avail. He hung his head and averted his eyes, presumably waiting for her footsteps to patter off into the distant corridor. 

She felt like such an ass. On the one hand, the guy she’d wanted for so long seemed to be open to reciprocating her feelings, but only after she pretended to be somebody that she wasn’t.

On the other hand, there was this truly one-in-a-million guy in front of her. Annoying, womanizing, egotistical, and vain at times. But, after how open and genuinely just... _sincere_ he’d been tonight, the thought occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t a lost cause after all. Especially if he meant when he said he preferred her as she was, without her pretending to be somebody else.

Choose JFK and... well? See where it goes. Maybe it goes somewhere, maybe it doesn’t, and the chance with Abe surely goes down the drain, she thought.

But... Choose Cleo and have a chance with Abe; taking the chance he feels the same just to do exactly what Abe did to you, to JFK.

“I ju-“ She was choking on the tight lump in her throat, still muttering incomprehensible verbiage while visibly shaking as her nerves got the best of her from the stress of the situation.

She reached for Kennedy’s hand, at first for balance, then ultimately for comfort.

“He just—I’m not—ugh! This fucking sucks.” She protested, unable to stop emotion from wracking her body. Don’t let the always calm doom-and-gloom front trick you; for some one so small, she had a lot of big feelings.

By this point, the two main emotions she could identify surfacing were rage and agony. She didn’t ask for any of this. She didn’t want to hurt anybody. All she wanted was just to be happy. 

Was that really so much to ask?

Immediately when she felt her face get hot and the familiar sting in her eyes, she became self conscious and embarrassed. 

For the night that was supposed to be so great, she was doing an awful lot of not great. 

She felt guilty, like she was ruining her prom date’s night just by existing. 

The sudden presence of JFK’s large hand rubbing her shoulder took her out of her head for a moment. He’d been patiently waiting for her to collect her thoughts while still supporting her with his other arm that she clung to. Not at all pressuring her into making a decision like she thought he might. 

No, she corrected herself, how she thought Abe might have in this situation.

Joan glanced up at him, his soft and uneven eyes showing nothing but kindness and understanding as he tried to give a small, knowing smile. 

She paused. 

Come to think of it, the only parts of this night that weren’t reasonably fun or exciting were the parts having to do with Abe. 

Everything great that had happened tonight was because of the boy who tried to give her space like he thought she might want; the boy who accepted and _liked_ her as she was; the boy who had just spent the past hour making her feel like the only thing in the world that mattered, making her laugh and feel wanted and experience the first kiss she’d ever had with any real spark to it.

She felt so stupid now, for taking so long and even considering the alternative.

Joan realize what she had in front of her right now was real. She didn’t have to beg for it, bargain for it, pray for it, change herself or move the earth for it.

All that she had to do for it was accept it, if that’s what she really wanted. 

She watched as Cleopatra opened the final door, finding no sign of Abe. It looked like she’d given up her search and started walking back into the main hall, alone.

Finally, after sufficient inner turmoil, Joan willingly threw herself into JFK’s larger frame, hugging him tight as her breathing steadied. She could smell the faint scent of cologne; sort of woodsy, if the woods were changing to the autumnal season with that crisp leaf-air smell. It was soothing.

She liked it a lot.

“I’m sorry, for everything tonight, honestly. I think I need to get out of here and get some fresh air,” Joan explained, stepping back from the embrace. Kennedy’s expressions were becoming harder and harder to gage in the dark corridor. 

“I gotcha,” The athlete nodded, a twinge of disappointment sitting in his voice as she started walking towards the exit.

She got confused and slightly distressed when she realized he wasn’t walking with her.

“You’re not coming?” The martyr clone inquired, sounding more fragile than she would have liked. 

She’d been holding the door open, allowing the moonlight to seep through the corridor, shining now on JFK’s face to reveal his shock and eventually giddiness at the invitation. He started to walk towards her, for some reason giggling to himself.

“You said ‘coming,’ hehehe,” The taller boy said, trying to withhold his joy, having been far too entertained with the statement.

Joan almost had to do a double take at the ease in which he accompanied her once more. He’s not mad at me? She wondered, realizing now that she had probably been looking at his silhouette which had now passed her outside to the steps for too long.

She didn’t know how to thank him, whether he realized how much this meant to her or not.

So, she opted for a playful “Oh, grow up!” Laughing and rolling her eyes, playfully punching his shoulder as they descended the steps they were sitting on not long ago now.

She hoped he couldn’t see her blush.

Without missing a beat when they’d made it to solid ground, Kennedy turned and step in front of her, now facing her. Placing a hand on her waist while using the other to push her stray hairs behind her ear, he leaned in, and in his most sultry voice whispered:

“Well, I, uh, may not be coming right now, but I think I know a way you can fix that, baby.” 

That’s certainly one way to stop somebody in their tracks.

Joan’s natural laugh from before quickly turned into that of a very very frazzled, taken off guard nervous chuckle, her face turning a deep crimson red. She could’ve sworn her head was producing steam if possible.

“HA! You should see your face, Betty!” JFK howled in laughter, doubling over, on the ground, rolling and the like, finding himself and his little gag hilarious as could be.

Joan was absolutely seething because he did get her good, and it _was_ kinda funny, but he wasn’t allowed to know that because right now it wasn’t allowed to be funny.

“You shut your mouth!” She tried to scold, until her facial muscles betrayed her—the corner of her mouth raised slightly into a tiny crooked smile.

Seeing this, JFK soon returned to her side, snaking his arm around her waist as they walked to the parking lot where the van was parked. 

“I’m just joshin’ ya,” He reassured her. “Unless of course, that is er, uh, something you would be interested in.” The boy winked with a crooked grin, making a clicking sound with his tongue as he did so, eliciting a shake of the head from Joan as they approached the car.

JFK raced to get to the passenger side before she could even process what he was doing.

“After you,” He gestured, opening the door for her in a very gentlemanly manner.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Joan half-jokingly obliged his offer, feeling more confidence with herself and the current situation. She watched as he made sure she was all the way in the vehicle, taking a few extra moments not really doing anything but gazing at her adoringly. Finally, he closed the door for her and made his way to the driver’s seat.

“Are you uh hungry at all?” JFK inquired as he started the car, trying to find anything good on the radio.

Now that she thought about it, Joan was starving. Earlier in the day Cleo had made mention of how bloating was the last thing you wanted for your prom pictures, and how she would refrain from eating until after the festivities. Normally, Joan wouldn’t pay any mind to Cleo’s vanity-obsessed comments, however she _was_ actively trying to win over her boyfriend. So, she figured she might as well try and beat her at her own game, having not eaten anything since breakfast.

“Yeah actually, some fries and a shake from the Grassy Knoll sound amazing right now.” Joan offered candidly, placing a hand on her empty stomach. 

“Right?” Kennedy beamed. “Ya know,” He started, appearing to contemplate what he was going to say next. “It’s nice to have a date who er, uh, will actually eat out with you.” He started, placing his hand on the passenger seat head rest to help him turn his body while reversing the van out of the spot.

There were two things about his response that tipped Joan off. First, he still thought of this as a date, specifically having _her_ as his date. This realization made her grin, looking with soft eyes at the boy as he drove out of the lot. 

Second, she wondered if Cleo had still had some of the same views on eating with JFK as she did currently.

“You and Cleo went to the Knoll as often as everybody else at school, how could she possibly not eat?” Joan asked, tilting her head curiously.

JFK seemed to roll it over in his head before answering.

“It er, uh, was part of her image thing. She ate and all when we were together, just not the er, uh, ‘poor people crap’ as she liked to call it.”

It was a relief to hear that Cleo most likely didn’t have some hidden eating disorder (which Joan still made a mental note to check in with Cleo about later), but it was still odd to hear her date refer to himself and Cleopatra as a “we.” It made Joan feel a certain way, one that she wasn’t expecting.

Nor was she expecting him to continue about his prior relationship.

“It really sucked.” He sighed. “Knowing I was only er, uh, part of her image.”

His openness caught Joan off guard. Then again, she thought, she’s cried like two times in front of him tonight, and he hadn’t judged her for it once. Offering that same level of vulnerability was the least she felt she could do.

She placed her hand gently on the back of his neck, so as not to scare him or distract him from his driving, and massaged gently. This was all she really knew how to do to offer somebody a moment of tenderness.

“Part of me thinks that’s not entirely true,” Joan offered, trying to find her best soothing voice. “She’s a super bitch most of the time, but sometimes she does things that make me think there might be a person in there, somewhere.” This piqued Kennedy’s attention, causing him to hit the curb trying to park in front of the Grassy Knoll. They shared panicked looks before realizing how non-serious it was, laughter ensuing. Then, Joan continued to finish her comforting spiel.

“Most of the pictures she has in our room are of herself. But, you know what? There is _one_ that happens to feature a certain someone along with her,” she tried, grabbing hold of his hand and squeezing reassuringly on the words ‘certain someone.’

  
...

He smiled at her on that note, telling her to wait right there as he eagerly exited the car, strolling to her side to open the car door for her. He extended his hand out to her, already missing her warmth from a few seconds prior. When she accepted it again, he felt like a little kid on Snowflake day.

“Good to know you uh already have a picture of me at home to fawn over,” The Kennedy clone joked, wiggling his eyebrows at Joan while they walked to a booth inside the Knoll. Completely disregarding his smug tone, her face lit up.

“That reminds me, if Toots didn’t destroy that disposable camera earlier we’ve got some pictures to get developed!” She said, squeezing his hand again (intentionally or not, he was unsure) in excitement.

“You want the pictures? Even with er, uh, all that stuff that happened tonight?” JFK asked, utterly perplexed but thoroughly impressed.

Being sentimental was one thing, but having the capacity to be mature and accept the bad that comes with a memory, while still being able to look back on it fondly and without regret took an incredibly strong character. At least it did in the boy’s eyes.

He couldn’t help but look at her in astonishment.

Then, he watched as she became slightly more recluse, letting go of his hand like she already had earlier that night, looking down at the table.

“No, you’re right, that’s stupid.”

Good going, Kennedy, he thought.

“Wait, that’s not—“ He tried to clarify what he meant, but she kept spewing what he felt was nonsense.

“Am I getting too far ahead of this? Did you want to forget any of this ever happened tomorrow? That would make sense—“ 

“Joansey! Joansey, baby, please stop talking.” He begged, cupping her face in his hands and politely forcing her to look at him. He was trying to get her to see the urgency and sincerity in his eyes and in his words. “Listen, how ‘bout I go order us some food, and then er, uh, I’ll tell ya until the sun comes up how much I uh...” He was wondering if what he wanted to say and the right thing to say were one and the same. 

Nah, too risky, he thought, opting for the safer answer as she continued to look at him expectantly. 

“How much I wanna get those er, uh, photos developed. Hell I’d uh get ‘em for ya tomorrow if you wanted.” Kennedy finally breathed out after he shook himself out of his thoughts. “Okay?” 

She just looked at him with doe eyes. 

“Okay.” Joan breathed in return, presumably not expecting that to be JFK’s response at all. “I want a strawberry shake.” 

He sighed in relief, scooting himself out of the booth carefully with a stupid grin on his face. 

“Comin’ right up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, chapter 2 down! I’m not sure how many chapters there will be in total because i got a lot of different ideas, but i’m thinking maybe 4 or 5? Not sure, but for now, i hope you enjoyed!! I rewrote this about 3 different times, it getting longer with each rewrite so my apologies that this one is even longer than the first one lol lmk if there’s anything that needs worked on (this chapter was a little rushed so i’m not immune to criticism <3) thanks for all the support and sweet comments! was not expecting that, i love u all


	3. The Beginning of The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of prom begins to wrap up for these two. Or does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No POV switches in this bad boy, it is also a LOT of dialogue. He who shall not be named is present in this chapter, so you’ve been warned. Enjoy!

“Comin’ right up,” JFK announced, walking towards the counter to place his order.

Marie Antoinette was working again, as usual. His normal Knoll routine dictated him to want to comment on her... assets, if you will... and he nearly did, until he remembered “Joansey” was waiting for him to return.

“Hey Marie, nice-“ he tugged at his shirt collar, subconsciously redirecting himself to not do what he felt he was programmed to. “-hairdo. Is it new?” He awkwardly chuckled.

Marie simply looked at him with tired eyes, blinking unmovingly.

“What do you want JFK.” Somehow when she asked it wasn’t a question but a command.

“Two ‘shakes, one P-B and one Straw-B,” he gave a crooked smile, pointing finger guns at her.

Again, met with a vacant and tired look. Jeez, this broad is more like a wall than ever, JFK thought.

He began reaching for his wallet when Marie asked if that would be all. 

“Uhhhhhh,” The clone thought out loud, knowing he was forgetting something.

“You and Joan, huh?” Marie asked, looking between the booth Joan sat at and JFK.

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” He smiled sweetly, then remembering how delicate the situation was. “Er, uh, well, I mean-“

“She usually gets fries. Maybe get her some.” She offered, uncaring about the two teen’s circumstances and still looking very much like she hated her life. But, it was the closest thing to hospitality she could offer.

“Good idea.” JFK sighed in relief, thankful he wouldn’t be disappointing his girl with his deplorable short-term memory. “Thanks, Marie.” He said, genuinely appreciative of the gesture, still digging through his pockets in an attempt to find his wallet

“Don’t get used to it.” She said in a very emotionless way. “You gonna pay or what.”

By now he’d figured out he’d left his wallet in the car.

“Yeah, sorry, I must’ve er, uh, left my cash in the car. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He said, combing his hands through his hair as he walked out to the car.

The Kennedy clone noticed a car that wasn’t there before had parked a bit close to his when trying to open his door. He let out a frustrated sigh trying to squeeze into the dark car. Needing the lights on, he put his key in the ignition and started her up.

“Stupid wallet, stupid pants pockets,” JFK grumbled to himself, trying to dig it out from between the seat and the center console in what felt like forever.

When he finally snatched it up, he adjusted the rear-view mirror to look at himself and spiffing his hair up a bit, making sure he was spick and span for his re-entry to the diner. 

This was the first time he’d been nervous to hang out with a girl in a _very_ long time. He struggled grabbing the wallet for so long because his hands had started to tremble a little. It was refreshing and exciting to know he could still get the little butterflies every now and again. 

When he tried getting out, he remembered how irritatingly close some dickhead had parked, and opted to move his own car a bit while he was there.

Alright hot shot, game time, he thought. Stepping out of the car, he started pulling the money out of his wallet, walking distractedly back into the establishment and to the counter.

Luckily no one was in his way.

“Got the cash!” JFK cheered awkwardly at Marie, who simply shook her head and put it in the register.

“Somebody’ll bring it to you when its done.” She sighed, walking away to clean something. JFK merely shrugged, walking back excitedly to the booth.

“Hey Joansey, which of your bozo friend’s is warmin’ my-“ He started jokingly, seeing the back of someone’s head in the spot he was in before.

It trailed off into anger when he realized it was Lincoln.

“You’re still here?” Joan and Lincoln asked in unison, though the intonations behind them holding opposite meanings. 

Joan stood up out of the booth to stand in front of the Kennedy clone.

“I thought I just watched you back the car out,” She explained, sounding and looking relieved to see him. Gently tugging at his sleeve’s cuff, the faintest tug of her lips formed a small grin as she quietly said “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Oh, how something so small could hold so much weight Kennedy had no clue. That little smile of hers is gonna kill me one of these days, he thought, doubly reprimanding himself internally for forgetting to tell his date where he was going. Already so lost in it and completely forgetting about their table’s new plus one.

That is, until Lincoln cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Joan went to sit back down, still tugging at his sleeve and pulling him next to her as the scooted back into the booth.

He was bummed he wouldn’t get to sit across from her and get lost in her eyes anymore, but it was good that it would be difficult to get distracted from socking the scrawny prick one, if need be.

“So,” Joan started, trying to fill the air. “Looks like the gangs all, um, mostly here,” She tried to say optimistically, falling a little flat towards the end.

“Yeah,” Lincoln chirped in response, eyes narrowing slightly for a split second at the Jock when he’d put his arm around Joan’s shoulders protectively. “I mean no offense JFK, but with a reputation like yours I assumed you would have just hit it and quit it. You know, shoot and scoot, smash n’ dash, ram and scram, wrinkle the sheets then hit the streets, rail and b-“

“Okay, thank you Abe we get it!”Joan interjected, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window, pretending her face wasn’t becoming the same color as the leather on the seats.

JFK quickly pressed his hands over Joan’s ears.

“Say some shit like that again and I promise my foot will be so far up your-“

“Quit it, weirdo!” Joan laughed, finally getting his hands off from her head.

Good to know she didn’t catch his threat.

Lincoln merely shifted nervously. That bastard has a lotta nerve, JFK glowered.

Thank the heavens for Marie Antoinette coming with their food.

The red-head looked confusedly at her date.

“I er, uh, only went out to get my wallet. And the cock with a dusty white piece a junk that, uh, parked next to us did a real bang up-job,” Kennedy rolled his eyes at the thought. “So I er, uh tried to park away from it.” 

His clearly honest explanation earned him a smile a from Joan while she placed her hand on his knee and squeezed. It was her silent “thank you,” as she sipped on her deliciously cold beverage. 

It also earned him a defensive glance from the ‘walking sideburn.’

“You know you could’ve asked me to-“ Joan had started to say, but was quickly cut-off by Lincoln.

“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about my ‘dusty white piece a junk,’ would you?” Abe sneered, offensively (and poorly) mimicking his thick Bostonian accent.

JFK had plucked a handful of fries from the basket and was deliberately shoving them one by one in his mouth, exaggerating his being in thought over the question at hand.

When he saw how much it was pissing off the lanky boy across from him, he swallowed his last bits of french fry and grabbed his styrofoam cup with one hand, the straw resting on his lips while he extended his arm to wrap around Joan’s waist.

Lincoln looked like he was about to boil over, and Joan merely arched a brow, kept in suspense.

“Yeah, I think I am. Sick parking skills, bro.” Kennedy’s voice oozed with parodied egotistical smugness as he mimicked Abe’s nasally and painfully midwestern accent. 

It caused Joan to snort mid-sip, who was now trying not to choke or worse, spit any of it out. JFK’s expression was plain and baselined, the only sign of a crack appearing on his face being the little tug at the corner of his mouth after Joan’s cute but laughable accident, rubbing her side with his thumb comfortingly. All the while, smugly sipping his own milkshake, staring down Lincoln with a blank stare. 

Abe scoffed.

“Seriously, Joan? This guy?” He rolled his eyes, tut-ing his tongue and shaking his head disapprovingly as he scooted out of the booth, now towering over the table. All sign of laughter escaped the young woman’s face.

“Maybe she likes guys who know how to _pull in properly,_ if you er, uh, know what I mean.” The athlete winked condescendingly at the lankier boy, standing up toe-to-toe with the other boy, knowing full well what he was insinuating.

Lincoln looked like he was about to burst, but more importantly, Joan had shoved herself passed JFK and staring them both down. Confused, he looked at her with a hurt expression.

“First of all, I don’t want to hear a * _word_ * from you after killing myself time and time again with everything I ever did to get you your dream girl, without so much as a simple fucking ‘thank you!’” She scolded Abe, voice slightly hoarse with emotion before turning her remarks to the Kennedy clone next. “And I * _especially_ * don’t need you speaking for me or about me like I’m not even here.” Her voice broke as she got louder, being careful not to get too loud and start a scene (thankfully it was late enough that not many others were present other than the employees), or too worked up and crying tears of frustration.

JFK’s eyebrows knit together in remorse, realizing now why she may not have taken so kindly to his retort, upset with himself now for making her feel this way.

Lincoln on the other hand simply shrugged it off, opting to reprimand JFK.

“Yeah, good going _Kennedy_.” He snarled, before his expression turned soft as he looked at Joan. He brushed her hair behind her ear, fingers trailing under her chin until he was cupping her face with one hand. Using his thumb to swipe the escaped tear from her cheek, he looked at her tenderly. “And whenever you’re ready to find me, you know where I’ll be Joan.” He finished his spiel by giving her shoulder one last reaffirming squeeze before walking out of the diner.  
  
JFK’s blood was boiling at the site, his hands balled into tight fists with white knuckles at his sides. But he knew Joan would never forgive him if he did anything.

She watched intently as he left (whereas the Kennedy couldn’t be happier the shit for brain’s was leaving), waiting until his car left the parking lot before she deflated, stumbling back into the booth with her hands covering her face.

The clone desperately wanted to comfort his counterpart, but knowing he was the problem prevented him from doing anything substantial. 

He sat across from her, instinctively reaching out to her then recoiling, instead placing his hand on the table in front of her.

“I’m sorry.” Was all his mind could manage.

This wasn’t how tonight was how he’d envisioned it would go at all. Some of that was terrific, like when she was gasping his nickname from his very touch. But what just happened there? A complete unforeseen shit show.

And like a big dummy, couldn’t take it upon himself to be the bigger man for once in his life, when it really mattered. 

JFK was ripped out of his thoughts when he felt Joan’s small hand playing with his. 

“I’m not saying it’s okay.” She firmly stated.

“Right, right,” He nodded, understanding that it wasn’t okay, but she didn’t hate him for it.

“...but in a REALLY stupid and messed up, misogynistic, egocentric way,” Joan started, slowly raising her gaze to meet his, visibly hanging on her every word. “That was super fucking funny.”

Kennedy was supremely glad to be in her (moderately) good graces again. It really tore him up inside when she was upset with him. It was new, and weird. He wasn’t a fan. 

He started to play with her hand in return when he caught a glimpse of the clock.

“Shit,” The dopey grin faded from his face, and Joan tensed and stopped playing with his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

Maybe if he just changed all the clocks she would come into contact with she wouldn’t have to leave.

“I think I er, uh, promised your Toots I’d have ya home by now.” He sighed, disappointed at himself for being the one to cut their time together short, especially when it started to get wholesome again.

“Ah,” Joan nodded in understanding, patting his hand a bit before continuing. “You know, I’m not sure if you knew, but he is a blind man.” She joked.

“You’re kidding.” JFK said, sarcastically pretending to be shocked as if he wasn’t made to hold a basketball and take pictures with it a couple hours earlier. 

It made Joan laugh again, though, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Which leads me to believe he might not be able to argue with me what time it is if I’m a couple minutes late.”

JFK wanted to abuse the shit out of that loophole.

He thought better of it, obviously, but still.

________________________________  
  


And so, he begrudgingly pulled up to his ex-girlfriend’s house, where his current prom date now resided. Because that wouldn’t get messy at all.

For the second or third time that night (both he and Joan had lost count), JFK rushed out from his side of the car to open her door for her, extending his hand out to her and carefully making sure she didn’t trip on the curb or anything.

That was his rationality just to be able to hold her again, even a little bit.

He walked her up to the front door, the porch light softly illuminating her face in a warm yellow tint, contrasting with the dark blue hue of everything else in the evening light. She shone just as bright as a star in the night sky, if not brighter.

“Thanks, Kennedy.” Joan said, voice barely above a whisper, snapping JFK out of his daydream. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Got it, so we’re uh, lying now.” He joked, high on the fact that she was still trying to make it seem like the night had any memory worth salvaging. 

She laughed that mesmerizing laugh of hers for the millionth time that night, and had yet to lose any of its effect on him.

“No! I’m serious! It may have been a little bit of a shit show, but...” her lips pursed in thought, before her head tilted charmingly. She averted her gaze to the lapel of his jacket, placing her hand lightly on it. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” It was so quiet he was sure he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been trying as hard as he was. 

He smiled down at her.

“Right back at ya, Betty.” He whispered, planting his lips gently on her hair while she was still fiddling with his lapel. He started to step away when he heard the clicks of the door handle from the other side.

“Goodnight, Jack,” Joan waved as he walked back to his car.

“‘Night Joansey.” He felt his stomach doing somersaults thinking about how his name rolled off her tongue.

Man, he was in trouble.

He sat in his car, wondering if any of tonight was real to begin with. He would go to sleep tonight and if he dreamt, none of them would even hold a candle in comparison to what he felt.

He really didn’t want to wake up tomorrow without this feeling. He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow not knowing where they stood.

A knock on the passenger side window flung him from his thoughts, scaring the life out of him.

JFK quickly turned to the source of the knock.

“Joan..?” He asked, visibly confused, rolling the window down.

“Hey, long time no see.” Joan joked, but clearly something was up.

“You, uh, okay?” Kennedy asked her, bracing himself for the it-was-fun-but-it-was-just-a-one-time-thing talk.

One that never came.

“Not really.” She said in defeat. “Cleo is kicking me out until further notice.”

Oh shit.

“Oh shit.” He remarked, astonished Cleo actually had the balls to do something like that.

“Can I come in?” He didn’t realize she was still standing outside the car. Quickly, he unlocked it, trying to gage how she was feeling to no avail. Either she was hiding it really well or she hadn’t quite processed it yet.

“Is er, uh, there somewhere you want me to take you?” JFK asked, trying to be thoughtful, but it seemed to make her a bit stressed.

“I don’t know...” She trailed off, going through a mental list with little reward.

He bit his lip and tugged at his collar, wondering how she might take this.

“My gay dads are home.” He said shortly.

Joan blushed severely.

“No, I- I wasn’t-“ She stumbled over her words, mortified over the realization that it really did sound like she was trying to ask him for a ‘sleepover.’

That much he knew, and while his cheeks were a little pink, he knew that’s not what she meant, and he certainly hadn’t intended for it to come out like that either. If anything happened between them, he wouldn’t say no, of course. But he came to terms with going home solo after he (tried to) dropped her off at home.

“I er, uh, meant I’m sure they’d love to see you.” JFK rubbed his neck nervously, unsure of how she’d accept that answer. “If you want, anyway.” He tried to respond coolly. He didn’t think it worked.

She tossed it around in her head for a moment before a sudden burst of courage energized her.

“You know what? To hell with it, I want to see how Wally and Carl have been, dammit!” She joked, which completely took Kennedy by surprise. There was something that made him feel all fuzzy inside knowing she had any interest in seeing how his foster parents were.

“Alright, final stop: Kennedy Residence. All aboard?” He asked, just in case she might need to change her mind.

“Floor it, Jack!”

Oh boy. This’ll be good, he thought cynically, applying pressure to the gas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a whirlwind day, right? I’m thinking the next chapter might be the final of this work, but I had a much much bigger and more thought out idea for these two that I felt would require it’s own work and working title. Tl;dr this might be part one of a collection, idk we’ll see how this one goes first. Comments are always appreciated, and I love u all! Stay cool and stay safe my dudes!! <3


	4. Hark!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Joan, er, uh, gay Dads. Gay Dads, Joan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so, i wrote what i thought would be the last chapter and it came out to be about 5,000 words, and i didn’t wanna try and edit that all at once so i split it in half, edited this one and voila! here it is! p.s. i gave JFK’s parents the creative last name of smith because why not

The drive to JFK’s house was nice.

Joan was trying to remember when the last time she had seen his parents was, brow furrowed deep in thought. The radio played _Stuck In The Middle With You_ quietly in the background. Well, relative to as quiet JFK would allow, belting and humming along. 

Joan didn’t seem to mind, slowly becoming white noise to her.

She tapped her fingers to beat of the music on the console, until her chauffeur stopped singing to speak.

“So, er, uh, did Cleo tell you, like, flat out you were banned?” He asked, head turned towards her but with his eyes still focused on the road as they approached a 4-way stop.

He really is a good driver, she thought as he slowly stopped, paying attention to the cars passing. She took her time in answering his question and opted instead to look at him, carefully taking in the sight as if this would be the last time she’d ever get to see him like this.

Tonight was very weird for their dynamic. 

She felt so, at least. It seemed like their normal school/social interactions namely consisted of his sorry excuse for flirting or irritating the shit out of her. Though these were not mutually exclusive; often his “flirting” was infuriating. She was honestly under the impression he would just make innuendos and ask for sex to fill the air, or simply to see if it would work at all (it hadn’t worked on her, however she was curious to know if it had worked on others).

Whereas all of tonight he had been present. Kind. Caring, even. The occasional innuendo here and there, but obviously in good fun.

She realized it was no longer a one sided game of mindless harassment.

They had chemistry.

“Er, uh, earth to Joan?” JFK gently tapped her hand when he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Ah, shit, she thought. She’d blanked out thinking about it, and happened to be staring at the boy driving for the entirety of it.

Well that’s embarrassing.

“Um, yeah, sorry,” she cringed inwardly, before it occurred to her that he acquired a slight blush when he went back to driving.

Yikes. She was totally staring AND got caught. A double whammy.

“Abe had actually opened the door, which was weird.” Joan explained, recounting the quick interaction, watching the boy next to her physically tense. “And before anything was said Cleo was throwing a stiletto or something expensive.” She flinched slightly at the thought.

“At you? Or, uh, Lincoln?” Kennedy inquired, hands gripping the wheel with force.

Still a sore spot for both of us huh, she thought, sliding down a bit into the seat and adjusting to get more comfortable.

“Couldn’t tell you.” She answered, trying to figure out how she could position her head to lean without hurting her neck. She opted to put her elbow on the console and rest her head in her hand.

“But she yelled something like ‘don’t let that home-wrecker in, you man whore!’” Joan tried making her best impression of Cleo, getting a cute laugh out of her date.

Cute? She thought.

Since when did she think he was cute?

“She’s er, uh, taking it well.” JFK half-joked, knowing full well just how cuckoo Cleo could really be when her feelings were hurt.

“Yeah?” The red-head asked, pretending not to be staring at him while he drove (again). Something about his face when he focused just threw her for a spin; when he put her in his jacket, when he carried her. 

Even when he was feeling her up for god sakes. 

She shook her head out of her thoughts, feeling her cheeks get hot and an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach.

“Well, she also screamed something about being a ‘back-up stealer?’ No clue what that‘s about, but,” Joan huffed, shutting her eyes entirely to prevent any further potentially impure thoughts.

Tonight had too much drama as it was, she thought. No need to go looking for more.

“Ah, yeah, she wanted me to er, sign a contract or something.” He offered, as if that answer provided any sort of clarity. Nervously he added on “but I uh never did.” As if that made it better.

Joan cocked a brow.

“A contract?” She half scoffed, half chuckled. “Really?”

“More on that later.” JFK assured her, pulling into his driveway and coming to a stop. “For now there’s er, uh, two gay dads that are just dyin’ to see ya.” He smirked, elbowing her playfully.

“Right,” Joan nodded, eyes still closed as she unbuckled her seat belt.

“‘Sides, I’m sure she knows I’m already wrapped around your little finger.” She could hear the smile he was making when he said it. Awfully quietly for his standards, but still clearly audible. 

She opened her eyes to look at him, though to her surprise he was already running out of the car. It was the only time that night he didn’t rush to her side and open the door.

I must’ve heard that right then, she shook her head, unable to stop the smile forming on her lips when getting out of the car herself.

He was waiting for her at the door, trying his hardest to keep his eyes trained on the handle and turning it without glancing at Joan.

He conceded when he felt her interlocking his hand with hers.

She smiled triumphantly, taking great pride in her ability to make the cool, “smooth-talking” heartbreaker squirm.

“I heard that.” Joan stated smugly, side eyeing him to try and gage his reaction.

“Heard what?” He asked innocently, opening the door and pulling her along.

When they entered the home, it was dimly lit, a lamp on here and there but the main light-source coming from the kitchen along with two distinct voices.

“Hey Dads, sorry I’m late,” Kennedy offered up as soon as they stepped into the door frame, having already recognized the worry in Wally’s voice from the other room.

“Oh, baby, I’m just glad you’re okay!” Wally cried, quickly enveloping his foster son into a tight embrace. Joan quickly released his hand, allowing for JFK to hug his dad back (though JFK would have wished she hadn’t).

“You made your father worried sick young man!” Carl boomed, sitting at the table with a newspaper in one hand, and using the other to take his cigar out of his mouth to point emphatically.

A pang of guilt ran through Joan, any and all courage she’d built up previously dissipating into thin air.

“Dads, you’re embarrassing me!” The Kennedy copy whined, his face garnering more and more color with each passing second. Wally finally let his foster son out of his loving arms, but not before pinching JFK’s cheek affectionately. The teenager merely huffed in protest, discreetly reaching back to hold Joan’s hand once again and squeezing.

“Carl! Carl I do not believe my eyes, is that Miss of Arc in our Kitchen? How’ve you been baby? We haven’t seen you since our little Johnny here was still this tall-“

“DAD. _Please!_ ” The athlete protested, glancing back at Joan. “See? I told you.” He hissed, which only made Joan giggle. She really was honestly quite happy to see the two again after so many years, and delighted they were happy to see her, too.

“Hi Mr. and Mr. Smith!” She smiled at them both, and much to her surprise got a semi-smile from Carl, who merely nodded and went back to reading his paper.

Ok, so far so good, Joan thought, graciously taking what she could get.

“I’ve been doing great,” She started, then remembered her current messy situation. “I mean, my childhood home got destroyed after a storm.” 

Wally looked at her in horror. 

“B-but it’s all good now!” Joan quickly reassured, Wally looking hopeful for an upside. “Well, it could be better, me and Toots are living with his girlfriend and her demon foster daughter, so he’s happy but demon spawn kicked me out for the time being.” She had no idea why she was spewing her life’s story to this poor man, and threw a hand over her mouth to shut herself up, while JFK played with her hand.

“Ooh, baby, it sounds like you’ve gone through the ringer these past couple weeks,” Wally offered in understanding, to which Joan nodded.

JFK would never openly admit it, but it was in times like these he was glad to have the parents that he did, who made efforts to be involved in his life and take the time to be involved with the things he cared about. Like Joan, for example.

“Prom was fun at least,” The red head smiled genuinely, looking up at the taller boy next to her.

Her nerves were finally settling, and JFK just smirked slyly, pretending he wasn’t ecstatic to hear her tell his parents that.

Wally gasped.

“Joanie!” He commanded, making Joan stand up a little straighter. “Were you the extra special one our little Johnny took tonight? He said he had more than one date just in case things went south, and he just would _not_ stop talking about her-“

“HAHAHAHA” Kennedy awkwardly laughed in interruption, face getting some more color again. “Okay, Dad! I think that is, er, uh, enough!” 

Joan couldn’t help but smile.

The other dates were ‘just in case,’ and apparently he already told his parents about her. 

“I never knew you were such a big softie,” Joan whispered teasingly to her cloned companion, getting a flustered sigh in response. 

“Can it, Betty!” He whisper-yelled back, though there really was no point in whispering it, the boy was loud.

“Baby, relax, we’re just catching up,” Wally smiled, getting up and walking to their coffee maker. “Can I get you kids anything? Coffee? Tea?” He asked, trying to be a good host to their company, while Carl nodded to Joan in goodbye and patted his son on the back before exiting the room.

“Yes please,” The two teens answered in unison, earning surprised glances towards each other. “You drink coffee? Yeah, I didn’t know you did,” They once more said at the same time (with the exception of a few ers and uhs from JFK). Slightly embarrassed, they opted to sit scooted away from one another at the newly vacant table while Wally smiled to himself, pouring the hot caffeinated drink into mugs.

“So Joanie, have you got some place to stay tonight?” JFK’s foster dad asked, bringing their mugs over to the table.

Getting reminded of how she didn’t have any friends that she could count on stung a bit. She’d texted Gandhi, who was either ignoring her or already asleep, given it was about quarter to 1 now, and Van Gogh was MIA, too. 

Her only other option would have been Abe, which was a can of worms she was _not_ willing to open tonight.

“Yeah, there’s a decent motel not far from here-“

“Absolutely not. Johnny did you even offer her to stay here?” Wally asked his son, using the patented parent tone, arms crossed and brow arched. 

“I was er, uh, about to ask you if the guest room was finished.” Kennedy responded defensively.

Wally stopped in his tracks.

“What day is today, Friday?” He asked no one in particular, getting frazzled and looking at the calendar, cheeks lightly flushed for some reason. “No, it’s not finished. But Joanie you are more than welcome to stay the night if you want.” He said, checking his wrist-watch. “Well, would you look at the time! Goodnight baby,” He said, walking over and hugging his son goodnight. “Goodnight Joanie.” He said, then hurriedly walking up the stairs.

JFK groaned in disgust.

“I can’t believe them.” He let out defeatedly, letting his head drop heavily onto the table.

Joan was extremely confused.

“I have a guest over. And they’re uh, still gonna do ‘gay-dad-date-night.’” He cried pitifully.

“What’s wrong with that? I think it’s sweet they’re keeping the spark alive.” She offered, confused why he was so embarrassed of his parents.

“By er, uh, ‘gay-dad-date-night’ I mean sex.” 

Joan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dang, Kennedy, looks like your parents are getting more action than you are,” She teased, taking a sip of her coffee. It was really good, she made a mental note to ask what kind it was and thank Wally for it in the morning.

“ _Don’t remind me._ ” He whined out, utterly defeated, now banging his head repeatedly against the table.

She placed her hands on the sides of his head and prevented him from dropping it again.

“Easy there Jack,” Joan offered comfortingly. “I just got upgraded from sleeping at a shitty motel, don’t make us downgrade to the ER.”

JFK smiled against her hands as she said “us.” Maybe it didn’t mean anything to her, but he wasn’t going to be picky with the sentiments.

“Hold me?” He asked optimistically, just barely turning his head to meet her gaze out of the corner of his eye.

Joan pretended to scoff while rolling her eyes, her lips betraying her once again as a smirk began to show. She tried to make it look like it was a troublesome and exhausting task to do, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see her smile. She hugged him from the side, her cheek resting on the back of his shoulder as her arm snaked underneath him so that his head could rest in the crook of her arm and not on the table.

Kennedy gently kissed her arm before resting on it with his cheek, pulling his hand up to gently hold it and swipe his thumb back and forth.

They sat there embraced like that for a while, enjoying one another’s company after an action packed day. It was a calmness JFK had never felt before.

God, how he didn’t want to let her go.

He simply smiled against her contentedly.

“Jack?” Joan cooed, voice barely above a whisper after a long while, nuzzling into his side.

“Hm?” The boy hummed, eyes closed as he drunkenly took in her scent, wondering what in the world the fragrance could be. Not quite fruity, not quite like his cologne, something he was struggling with putting a name to.

“I haven’t...” She paused, moving her head slightly so that there was no way to glance at her. “I’ve never been with somebody like this before.”

Kennedy was speechless. 

He knew she was strung up on Lincoln for a good time, but for some reason he’d always imagined she tended to keep her romantic life private, and that was why she’d never been publicly seen with a guy other than Abe or Gandhi.

“Seriously?” JFK couldn’t stop himself from asking.

He felt her tense up against him.

“Whatever bozo’s you’ve er, uh, hung out with must be brain-dead or somethin’,” The brown haired boy said very matter of factly. “If they’re not able to see the kind of treasure you are.”

Joan eased up slightly.

“...you think so?” The clone wondered out loud after a pause. She was drawing little shapes on his shoulder blade with her index finger.

It killed him to know that she struggled to believe each time he tried to tell her how amazing she was, all because some lanky, sorry excuse for a boy constantly made her second choice.

He sighed and gently sat up, keeping a soft hold on her arm and continuing the soothing shapes of his own. 

She looked so small right then and there. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly.

“I er, uh, think I believe it so much I threatened to kick the shit outta Lincoln tonight.” 

Joan snorted.

“That’s what you covered my ears for?” She couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction.

JFK was the definition of bewildered. He was expecting more anger and hitting and speeches about how she could stand up for herself.

“I know he can be a dick, a slap here and there wouldn’t kill him.” She started, placing her hand on his shoulder and rubbing gently. “But I’m a big girl, Jack. I can do the ass kicking on that one.” She was still smiling at him, head tilted to the side a bit.

“So, you’re, uh... Not mad?” The athlete asked apprehensively.

“I would be had you actually hit him,” Joan explained, before resting her elbow on the table and holding her head up with her hand. “But you didn’t. And I’m glad you didn’t end up hurting him or yourself.” She offered sincerely.

She’s glad you didn’t hurt yourself?

“You’ve really been such a great guy tonight.” She said dreamily, looking at his face but not in the eyes. 

He sat up a little straighter with that one.

She thinks I’m a good guy?

“Good enough for you?”

Whoops! That one slipped out before he could think it through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, almost at the finish line!! Thanks to everyone for the kind words of encouragement, i’m really excited for the next chapter. until then, stay safe! and joanfk supremacy (haha jk, unless..?)


	5. L’amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now That’s What I Call Angst!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW portion ahead! if you don’t want to read it it’s contained in lines, so as soon as you see ____________  
> it’s started. if you need to skip it, look for the second  
> ____________
> 
> i wrote this in the tags, but bc it’s nsfw everyone is aged up to be 18 and up (doesn’t really change anything, just thought i should mention).

Joan was not at all expecting to hear that come out of JFK’s mouth.

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but he had to have known this wasn’t that simple.

“Kennedy,” She sighed, “I’m not gonna pretend to get you. You sleep around and view women as ‘broads’ to be ‘conquered,’ dated a girl for appearances and to keep her from dating a genuinely nice guy-“

“* _cough_ * * _cough_ * _bastard!_ * _cough_ * * _cough_ *”JFK interjected, clearly annoyed by the mention of _him_ , in which she merely shrugged.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase: to keep her from a guy who is an ass now, but at the time was a nice kid,” Joan paused, waiting to see if Kennedy would argue that time.

When he simply shrugged at her rephrasing, she began to wonder:

What is his deal with Abe anyway? She thought, slightly agitated now. 

It’s not like Abe broke his heart into a million pieces over and over again. What did Kennedy have to be mad at him for? 

“Taking” Cleo? 

Please, if he was really still that upset about it he should be trying to get back with her right now, since Cleo clearly wasn’t having it with Abe.

Joan was fuming internally, her feelings now hurt somehow for contradicting reasons.

“Honestly, you’re not the kind of guy I typically go for, and certainly not the type I could see going for me.” 

That stung.

But, he already felt bad for interrupting her once, so he tried to keep quiet. 

JFK absolutely despised Abe tonight.

“And yet,” The red-head sighed, looking down at his hand that was still on her arm much to her surprise, and comfortingly no less. “Here we are.”

He watched her with concern, trying to understand what it was that she was implying.

“You skipped a decent chunk of your prom, you gave up your other dates, you cheered me up, held me, kissed me, made me feel like I was worth a damn while crying over some stupid fucking boy-!” 

Her agitation with his seemingly unwarranted ill will towards Abe was starting to surface, her voice rising in volume and tone increasingly defensive and angry.

“-threatened to fight said boy, offering me a place to sleep, asking me to hold you-“

His chest got tighter with every word, and it felt like the room was spinning.

She’s never yelled at me like this before, the jock realized, fear preventing any assemblence of rational thought.

“-and for what?!” 

JFK didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what _she_ was trying to say for that matter.

And now her hands were shaking in, what, anger? Sadness? Some unknown emotion that caused her to bite her lip.

Did I do something wrong? He wondered, before it clicked.

“All this, to, what?” 

Joan looked him in the eyes.

“To get back at Abe? Like some messed up competition?”

” _...oh..._ ”

That hurt the most.

He had told her not even an hour ago he truly thought she was a treasure, a real diamond in the ruff. 

And somehow that was some big scheme for one last ‘Fuck you’ to Lincoln?

JFK chuckled at himself in disbelief, the look he gave her making her instantly regret everything she’d just said. 

He looked utterly dejected.

Kennedy shot up, letting go of her arm, pacing in circles.

“Shit.” He hissed at himself, running his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath, palms rubbing his eyes quickly and pretending there wasn’t anything threatening to spill over. 

“Jesus, Betty, for someone so smart you’re killing me here,” JFK tried to joke, but his voice was beginning to become crackly and hoarse.

He thought he was going to throw up.

She sat at the table still, looking first at the now empty chair, missing his softness and warmth. And then she turned her gaze at him, now across the room. She stared at him in astonishment. 

And guilt.

“I know I don’t, uh, have the best history, but,” He leaned his back against a counter in defeat, slouching forward, unable to look at her anymore.

He looked (and felt) miserable.

“I like everything about you, Joan. If you don’t feel...that sucks, but I wouldn’t-“

Kennedy was choking on the newly formed lump.

“I would never use you like that. Or make you do anything you, uh, didn’t want to, not on purpose.” 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

“I want to knock Lincoln’s teeth in, ‘cause it’s uh, infuriatin’ to see him treat ya like that,” JFK said, his accent slightly thicker with the emotion lacing his voice.

Oh god.

“I never met a broad better than you, Joan.” 

She was mortified.

Frozen stiff.

What had she just done?

Joan realized she had no reason, absolutely none, zip, nada, zilch reason not to believe him. 

Time after time tonight (with the exception of the Abe fiasco depending on how you spin it) Kennedy had shown a lot of growth and maturity compared to how she had always immediately thought of him. 

Oh my god, she thought. Why did I just do that?!

I’m pulling an Abe.

Again! Dammit!

Real dick move, Joan, she thought painfully. Can’t put any of that blame on Kennedy.

She watched as he slid his back down the cabinets until he was sitting on the tiled floor, face buried in his hands.

“Kennedy.” Joan’s voice was soft and honeyed, and full of regret.

“I know. I know,” He sighed, voice muffled in his hands. “‘It’s-not-you-it’s-me.’ No need to drag it out.” He sounded exhausted.

She carefully walked over to his shrunken figure as if the wrong step would set off a mine.

“Jack.” 

Radio silence.

“Jack, please, I’m sorry.” Joan pleaded, kneeling on the floor, propping herself in between his legs.

The smaller girl reached her arms out, grabbing his hands from his face.

He tried to wipe his face quickly with his sleeves.

She held both of his much larger hands in her small ones, placing delicate kisses on his fingers and knuckles.

He didn’t know where to look.

She placed a hand on his cheek and began leaving a trail of small kisses where any tears would have been.

“Joan, you, uh, don’t need to do this.” The Kennedy said, grabbing her hands and pulling them away.

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight and show you to your room,” Kennedy tried to protest, gaze focused on the ground.

Joan freed one of her hands to cup his face and make him look at her.

“I want this.”

___________________________

He tried to look away

“Joan, really-“

She guided the hand of his that still clung to hers and placed it be mere centimeters off of her body, directly above her breast.

“Jack,” She breathed, heart racing in her ears. “I’m serious.”

Those words rang about in his head for a moment.

“If you want this, I want this, too.” Joan breathed in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“I want you...”

He was frozen in place.

“Please,” Joan pleaded, “Say something?”

Kennedy put his free hand behind her head and at the base of her neck, hungrily pulling her in and attacking her lips that still tasted of coffee. She put the one of his she still held onto her chest.

Her mouth opened against his when his hand made contact and he started massaging, a sound she’d never made before escaping her.

Joan brought herself forward, moving her legs so that she was straddling her lover. He groaned into her shoulder, one of his hands traveling down to her lower back, gripping her thigh while still massaging her chest.

She rolled her hips back and forth, surprised by the newly forming mass she felt hitting her core.

He let his hands explore her body more as he kissed her, tongue grazing her bottom lip, begging for entry. She lustfully obliged his silent request, allowing him to explore her a little more.

He started to put his hand underneath her shirt when pulled away, placing her hands on his chest. 

“Bedroom, please,” She moaned, his thumb grazing over nipple.

Without separating, Kennedy placed his hands under her soft ass and hoisted her up as he stood from the kitchen floor.

Joan would have been more impressed if she weren’t so preoccupied. she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed his collarbone, wrapping her hands around the back of neck.

Quickly, he went up the stairs and opened his bedroom door, gently placing her on the bed as soon as he could. He closed and locked the door, removing the clothing covering his top half and tossing it somewhere on the floor.

Placing himself on top of her, he placed his hand and the hem of her shirt, lightly tugging for her to lift her arms. He ripped the garment off in a smooth motion, tossing it to the side, kissing and sucking on her neck. He wanted to be sure she had a few “parting gifts” to remember him by tomorrow.

He made quick work of her bra, unclamping it with shaker hands, waiting for her to remove it when she was ready. 

When she did, he continued his trail southbound, eliciting another moan when he licked the pink bundle of nerves. He sucked on it as she took charge and explored his abdomen, hands delicately moving towards his waistband.

He eagerly complied, pulling away and tearing off his bottoms until he was left in his drawers.

He looked at the beautiful sight in front of him, her perky breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath, looking at him euphorically.

Kennedy could handle any amount Lincoln, Cleo, insecurities and the lot if it meant this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to see her like this.

He planted kisses down from her rib cage, across her stomach and finally to the waistband of her pants. 

He stopped to look up at her.

She nodded.

She almost thought he tore the pants themselves with the speed at which he removed them. 

She hadn’t noticed until now, but her hands and legs had been trembling for who knows how long.

With great mindfulness, Kennedy pulled down the lacy black fabric to reveal her womanhood. Pulling the dainty garment up and off of her legs, he kissed and massaged everything in sight.

She covered her mouth with her hand when he licked her slit.

He’d rather she didn’t, the sounds she was making edging him on.

He took a brief moment away from her folds to suck on his fingers, the placing one on her entrance, looking up for her approval.

She nodded, and he watched as her eyes rolled in the back of her head when combined the use of his tongue in her clit with the strokes of his finger.

When he felt her hips grinding against his hand, he added another.

Never in his wildest dream would he have believed this is how the night would go.

“Jack-!” She gasped, grabbing at this hand that was gripping her thigh and holding on to it for dear life.

“Guess what I’m spelling, Joansey,” Kennedy hummed against her.

“Whaa-“ Was all she got the chance to get out that was even remotely coherent.

He was tactfully spelling out his entire name with his mouth on her most sensitive spot. All the while he slipped a third finger in, moving back and forth methodically until he realized she was basically riding his hand at this point.

“Jack,” She moaned, his nickname ringing out melodically in her strained, breathy voice.

“Joansey,” He moaned in return, biting her inner thigh, fingers still at work.

She looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Please?”

“Are you, uh, sure?” he groaned against her skin, hastily reaching into the drawer of his bedside table and retrieving a condom.

She nodded, before moving to pull down his boxer’s waistband, revealing the hard mass from before.

She looked at his length, then down at herself, trying to do the math on that one.

He quickly rolled the condom over his member, sitting on the bed.

“Want to be on top or bottom,” he asked, running his fingers through her hair and nibbling her ear. 

“I trust you,” was all she could manage.

He pushed her back, air messily strewn about her his pillows, her body completely exposed to him.

Kennedy relished in the fact he was the only guy in her life to have the privilege of seeing her natural beauty.

And it wasn’t in the cards to disappoint tonight.

He lined himself up at her entrance, thumb rubbing her clit in circular motions.

“Ready?” He asked

She nodded, biting her lip to keep quiet.

He pushed himself inside with some difficulty.

“So fucking tight,” He groaned, while she winced in pain. 

Uh oh, that was new.

“Should I stop?” He panicked, not yet fully inside her. 

“No,” she whimpered, clutching his hand with all her might. “Keep going.”

He nodded. Once he was fully in, he kissed her over and over, and waited until she gave him the okay to continue.

He tried to go slow and gently and first, his strokes slow and deep, until she moaned his name again and again, in which he couldn’t help himself.

With his thumb still ravaging her sensitive nub, he gripped her waist firmly with his other hand, kissing and sucking on every inch of skin he could find.

She no longer let out individual moans, it became one sweet, continuous chorus. The sweetest tune he would ever hear.

She cried “there” over and over again, wrapping her legs around him, and for a second he was worried he would finish first with how much power her voice had over him.

After a series of fast, deep, masterful strokes, she let out a final cry, her whole body twitching, walls tightened around his member.

He finished with her last sigh, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go, inadvertently bumping that spot she enjoyed so much, sending a shock through her whole body.

He tried to move, but she asked him to hold still for a few minutes, otherwise it would be too much to bear.

He happily obliged.

___________________________

  
When she woke up they were a tangled mess.

Joan remembered falling asleep in the nude, and thus was surprised when she looked down and saw his ‘Clone State’ sweater swallowing up her tiny frame, which was way softer (and much larger) than she’d expected.

She looked up at his sleeping face, the sunlight streaming in through the blinds and highlighting everything perfectly. 

Kennedy really was a big softie, huh.

His analog clock read 9:30am, which, for a Saturday morning after the night they had wasn’t bad at all. She had no idea when he would wake up, and so she opted to watch him adoringly, his mouth slightly open, luckily though no snoring. She listened to his breathing, watched his face twitch.

He must be dreaming, she thought.

The red-head kissed his cheek and nuzzled into his bare chest, drawing more imaginary shapes until he squeezed her close.

“‘Morning.” He said, still in a haze, but smiling down at the girl in his arms. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” She cooed, stroking the side of his face. 

“Hey, that’s, er, uh, my line.” He croaked, struggling to open his eyes in the light.

The Kennedy clone tenderly kissed her forehead a couple of times, indulging once more in her scent that he couldn’t quite place, aside from being ‘Joansey’s.’

“I’m glad you’re still here,” He purred.

“Me too,” She quietly agreed, before remembering the events of last night that had transpired.

“Are you...” she paused, not wanting to break the perfect little bubble they were in, but knowing it was only a matter of time. 

“Are you still mad, at me?” Joan asked apprehensively, getting met with a look that could only be described as ‘are you fucking kidding me right now my dude?’

“I can’t stay mad at you, Joansey.” He promised, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. “‘Sides, I wasn’t mad, jus uh, little worked up.” JFK explained groggily.

The smaller girl still felt some guilt.

“I’m sorry,” She said in the quietest voice he had ever heard her use.

He hummed into her neck, leaving a handful of tender ‘goodmorning’ kisses.

“Don’t be sorry, Betty,” He hummed some more. She felt him smile, and assumed it was a mischievous grin that would be followed by an innuendo of some kind. 

“Go out with me.” Kennedy blurted out point blank, hiding his eyes under her head and part of a pillow to block out the sun. “Be my girl and er, uh no hard feelings.”

She giggled, rolling slightly to see him better, using her hands to block out the sunlight.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Joan whined playfully, planting her lips on his jawline. “but I _maybe_ like you, or whatever,” the martyr clone conceded. “So I guess I’ll do it for you. But only this once, got it?” She demanded, wagging a finger in his face trying to sound somewhat serious before booping his nose, bursting into a laughing fit, earning a tight squeeze in response.

“You won’t regret this, Joansey!” Kennedy lovingly sang, his hand searching for hers, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it over and over.

“I’m counting on you, Jack,” she replied back, voice velvety and low.

Eventually she begrudgingly untangled herself from the mess of cuddles. “I’m gonna use the restroom,” She said, patting his face lovingly and sitting up out of bed. Taking not even two steps before she was on the floor, doubled over.

JFK got up in a panic.

“Joan? Joan, what’s wrong?!” He squeaked pitifully, rushing to her side.

She was laughing to tears when he got to her.

He was confused as all hell.

“I can’t walk,” Joan wheezed in between laughs.

“What do ya mean you can’t-?!”

Kennedy had finally put two and two together, gasping in shock.

A mischievous grin spread across his lips.

“Ya know, maybe if we er, uh, do it from the other side it’ll uh balance out.” He smirked, carefully scooping his knockout Betty up in his arms. 

“Nuh-uh! You did this to me, I don’t wanna hear it.” Joan snorted, until Kennedy cocked a brow at her.

“You er, sure about that Joansey?” He asked, his grin evil and his eyes glinting. “I’m pretty sure you, uh, were laying it on pretty thick there,” Kennedy smirked evilly. “‘Jack, I want you,’ ‘Please?’” He snickered, seeing her eyes widen.

JFK leaned her back against his bedroom door, nowhere left to hide under his sultry gaze.

“And we er, uh, can’t forget a certain someone kept cryin’ ‘There! There! There! Oh, baby *please* don’t stop! Ungh!’” He mimicked low and breathily into her ear, moan and all.

Her face was the same color as her hair now, and she tried banging on his chest to no avail.

“Low blow man,” She let out defeatedly, covering her face with her hands.

“What can I say, er, uh, I aim to please~” JFK winked before kissing her hair gently, untrapping her and continuing to carry her to the restroom.

He looked down at her impossibly cute flustered face with glee.

I could get used to Saturday mornings like this, JFK thought with a crooked grin, squeezing her a little tighter.

He never wanted to let go.

...

  
And so, a new chapter had opened up for the two clones, a new outlet of happiness forming for them both.

Surely Cleo and Abe will be supportive... 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhh! can you believe we made it to the end? i cant! 
> 
> thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone for reading and being a part of this joanfk momentum, this was so fun to write, and i can’t wait to write more!! 
> 
> i love you all, please stay rad, healthy and safe!!


End file.
